


fan and sword, lover and spy

by TheAndromedaRecord



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fake Character Death, Found Family, Gen, Lesbian Azula (Avatar), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Platonic Relationships, Revenge, also kyoshi is here, eventually, idiots to lovers, smart sokka rights, so much pining, spymaster sokka au, toph gets her life changing field trip and it involves killing people, way more plot than there needs to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAndromedaRecord/pseuds/TheAndromedaRecord
Summary: Ambassador Sokka is dead. Firelord Zuko knows this. The Orchid, the organization who killed him, knows this. The world knows this.Sokka didn't get the memo. He's alive and well, and he's going to make sure the Orchid doesn't hurt anyone else. After all, what's a bunch of ragtag rebels to one of the heroes of Sozin's Comet?Featuring: Lazy aliases, matters of political expediency, 4-dimensional pai sho, some dope art, and Azula reaping the rewards of being loved.*ON HIATUS SINCE I AM IN COLLEGE NOW*
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 109
Kudos: 291
Collections: Zukka Spymaster AU





	1. Prologue: Party Rock Is In Sanjiazi Tonight

The streets of Sanjiazi stood were filled with dust and tumbleweeds, leaving no trace of the population that had occupied it not hours earlier. No color stood out from the bleached storefronts and clouded sky. No wares were set on stalls. No chimes dangled from window-sills. Nothing decorated the town but for the corpse that lay in the center of the road, staining its surrounding dust a color that may have looked red if the sun was out, but now just made the dirt darker. 

While the streets of Sanjiazi stood empty, its citizen-pretenders rejoiced in throngs.

They stood and sat strung between the treetops in their temporary hideout in the woods three miles away, risking discovery for the chance to revel in their victory. Emotions ran so high they nearly crackled in the air—for a group that spent so much time waiting in the shadows, such a decisive blow to the Fire Nation was downright euphoric. They ate, they drank, and they raised their glasses and cheered the death of the cadaver that was now the sole resident of their village. 

“The Firelord’s dog has been put down,” announced a woman with a wave of scar tissue down her chin, one boot up on the tree-trunk table in a victory pose, raising a glass of carefully rationed alcohol. “Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow, the Fire Nation’s hell begins!”

Yells and cheers echoed from the branches. The sun started to peek through the clouds and gaze down on the celebration of a moonlit murder. It glinted off the weapons strapped to everyone in the treetops. 

“To the Orchid,” she continued. “And to our newest lieutenant, the woman of the hour, Katsuki! Let us drink to her and to her vengeance!”

The woman, fearless Zhuji, raised her glass high, and it was met with a clink as the guest of honor rose with a laugh to complete the toast. 

Katsuki was a woman who looked like the steel she fought with. She smiled and laughed with the confidence of someone who didn’t need to be stoic to be strong. She drank with a grin on her lips and dried blood still marring her egg-white makeup, makeup that had remained intact even through her murder of the Southern Water Tribe’s best swordsman, the hero of Sozin’s Comet. The man had faced down a fleet of Fire Nation airships and come away with just a broken leg, and now he was dead by her sword and fan. The rebels of the Orchid gazed on her with respect and fear, like one might look at a gathering storm. None had seen her unpainted face, and they didn’t need to in order to accept her as one of their own. That dried blood was the only resume she needed.

“You wanna give a speech?” Zhuji offered.

Katsuki shrugged. “I never miss an opportunity to run my mouth.” 

She shoved another piece of pig-chicken meat into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, then stepped up onto the table. She spread her arms wide to greet the cheering crowd. She had an undeniable presence. 

“I know this is a pretty exclusive club here at the Orchid,” she began, and was met with a chorus of laughs. “And I’m honored that you’ve accepted me into your ranks. You don’t know me, but you will. I am like you—someone wronged by that scarred snake who calls himself Firelord. I follow the teachings of Avatar Kyoshi, and she was quite clear that only justice will bring peace. How can we have justice while the Fire Nation’s still standing?” The Orchid rebels cheered. “We are all united in our pursuit of justice, and it is my great pleasure to be a part of the movement you have created.” She smirked. “Ambassador Sokka is just the beginning.”

The Orchid chanted her name, fevered and giddy in their unity. Tomorrow, they would scatter to the four winds, brought together only by archaic messages and cryptic plans. Tomorrow, they would resume the cat-and-mouse game. But today, they had not yet sent the bloodied betrothal necklace to the palace, and they could celebrate the first victory in a war the Fire Nation hadn’t even realized was being fought. 

Three miles away, a corpse lay cooling in the dust, and the eyes of the Firelord’s betrothed, Ambassador Sokka, stared unseeing into the emerging sun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll have art with every chapter once HTML stops being a little bitch and lets me show images. In the meantime.
> 
> Fic poster: https://theandromedarecord.tumblr.com/post/623915841511161856/title-and-poster-for-the-spymaster-sokka-au-fic
> 
> Katsuki: https://theandromedarecord.tumblr.com/post/623577183974211584/so-yall-know-that-post-where-sokka-fakes-his
> 
> Up next: Zuko gets a letter


	2. We Just Got A Letter, I Wonder Who It's From?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orchid is kind enough to send Firelord Zuko a gift and personalized message! How sweet of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about these chapter titles but I can't help myself

Firelord Zuko hadn’t sat in his throne since his coronation.

The throne room stood empty, its torches and trench of fire unlit in seven years, filled only with soot and the memories of flame. Perhaps his heirs would again occupy it, but every time he entered, he couldn’t help but feel the gaze of his father somehow still upon him. So he didn’t. He didn’t have time to sit around behind a screen of flickering fire, anyway. There was so much to do.

He turned Ozai’s old bedroom into an office after one night of sleeping in the Firelord’s bed had him waking up screaming. He replaced the long war table with a round table made from a cross-section of a great tree felled by a fallen airship on the day of Sozin’s Comet. He learned the back passages and hidden rooms of the palace by heart.

The throne room used to have an important function. Traditionally, the Firelord held audiences there.

Firelord Zuko still held audiences—citizen representatives, ministers, messengers. Just not in the throne room. He held court under a tree by the turtleneck pond, where even his guards could relax in the shade.  Here, he sat for two hours every morning and heard complaints from representatives of his citizens, received messages from all over the world, and ate whatever the cooks saw fit to prepare for him and his guests—Zuko loved to give them some culinary freedom. Often, he served tea to whoever he was seeing. Good teamaking, Iroh always said, is like a sword. If not sharpened regularly, it goes dull. 

The day the messenger came was slow. Perhaps it was the oppressive heat that kept people from seeking an audience, or perhaps it was the peace in the colonies that kept people content, as the coalition governments were more and more successful at representing their people. 

Or maybe it was because many people came just for a chance to meet the charming Ambassador Sokka, who would sometimes dive into the pond and swim with the turtleducks to try to bait Zuko into throwing bread at him in annoyance. But Sokka was gone on a diplomatic mission to the newly reoccupied village of Sanjiazi, leaving only quiet in his wake. 

Zuko looked up from his cup of tea as a messenger came running down the wood-floor path. Finally, something to do, something to address. It was Li Chen, the head messenger, the only one trusted with bringing black-ribbon missives to the Firelord. He’d remained stoic in the face of bad news and weathered storms of correspondence, but now he looked terrified. He shifted from foot to foot like a puma-deer. 

“What is it, Li Chen?” Zuko asked him.

Li Chen paused to briefly bow and held up an opened letter.

“This letter was addressed to you, from the Orchid, with a…gift”

Zuko recoiled. He thought the Orchid had faded away—they hadn’t made any public moves since the unsuccessful attempt on his life after the coronation. Li Chen’s eyes shifted from side to side. 

“We opened and read it,” Li Chen said, “a-as you ordered for all mail from potential dangers, my lord.”

“Just tell me what it says,” Zuko ordered. 

Li Chen swallowed. Zuko tried to put on a comforting smile—he didn’t want anyone to feel frightened in his presence. This wasn’t the throne room of Ozai. Surely the dappled sun and the serene quacks of the turtleducks was enough to put anyone at ease.

“Ambassador Sokka was killed by the Orchid in Sanjiazi,” Li Chen said in barely more than a whisper, and maybe he said more, but Zuko didn’t hear it over the dizzying pounding in his ears. 

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Li Chen had misread the message in his haste. Sokka couldn’t be dead.

“What did you say?” Zuko whispered.

“Ambassador Sokka...he’s dead,” Li Chen repeated.

Zuko’s heart skipped ten beats. He was cold. He was freezing. Flames flickered at the tips of his fingers. 

“Wh...I don’t...I don’t understand.”

“The letter just says—”

“Give me the message,” Zuko hissed, standing up to his full height. He would read it, and it would say that Sokka was fine, that he was having a wonderful time in Sanjiazi, and he’d throw Li Chen in the goddamn dungeons for such a stupid mistake. 

“D-do you want the…’gift’ that came with it?” Li Chen asked.

Zuko nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Li Chen approached warily and handed something wrapped in a bloodstained sheet of paper up to Zuko. Zuko unraveled it, and a necklace, spattered in dried blood, fell into his hand. He gasped, a rattle that tore itself, burning, from his lungs. He knew that necklace. He’d spent hours with that necklace, crouched over it with a chisel and a fine pick, threading it with gold and pairing it with the finest satin ribbon, giving it far more attention than a token for a political marriage warranted. He’d last seen it wrapped around Sokka’s neck—Sokka hadn’t taken it off since the day he received it. 

“I have to do my duty to my tribe,” he’d joked. “Gotta make sure our alliance stays strong, right, Almighty Firelord?”

He turned to the letter. It spelled out, in blocky and nondescript kanji:

Your precious Ambassador Sokka had his throat slit in Sanjiazi under the full moon. His corpse now lies in the village. Give up your throne, Firelord. You have far more to lose than just your political pet.

“No,” Zuko whispered. “No, Sokka’s not dead—he can’t be—”

He smelled smoke as his hands trembled. 

“My lord?” Li Chen squeaked. “The letter?”

Zuko looked at his hands, hands that seemed all of a sudden to not belong to him, and registered distantly that one of them was scorching the letter where his fingers clutched it tightly. He let go, let the letter flutter to his feet and singe the grass.

After he had been scarred, it had taken days for him to come back to himself, and even longer to accept what had happened. He felt the same now—in a daze, his eyes and mind and body disconnected, his feeling cut off and his legs switching between total numbness and shaking like a leaf. One of them gave out from under him, and he collapsed onto the ground next to the fallen letter. 

“Everybody leave me,” he ordered. “Including the guards.” The guards shuffled their feet, unsure if they should leave. They weren’t supposed to leave him. Zuko felt the fire forming in his throat. “Everyone!”

“My lord—” Captain Daisuke objected. 

“OUT!” Zuko roared, his words mingling with white-hot fire tearing itself from his throat. 

Li Chen cried out and sprang back, clutching his arm, desperately patting at the fire that had caught on his sleeve. Zuko’s breaths heaved, his hands shook, embers caught on the trunk of the tree. The turtleducks fled the pond. The guards filed out of the courtyard, at first an orderly walk then a run.

Li Chen looked back as he ran, and Zuko met his eyes through the blur of his tears. His arm was burned. Zuko had done that. He’d hurt him. He was no better than his father. The tree was starting to catch fire.

Zuko cried out, slammed his hands on the ground, and the flames disappeared from the trees and grass and instead made a home inside his ribcage, burning at his heart and licking at his lungs. 

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

It wasn’t possible. Sokka couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be. Ty Lee was with him—she would have protected him like Zuko should have. They would have taken care of each other. 

“I can’t do this without you,” he breathed. 

Alone. He was burning under the unforgiving gaze of Agni, and he was alone. He laced his fingers over the back of his neck. His skin was fevered and sweating. 

He had to go to Sanjiazi. Maybe it was a trap, and Sokka had been captured, and the Orchid was hoping Zuko would come for him. That would be fine. He would take soldiers and go to Sanjiazi. 

Ty Lee was with him. Ty Lee would have protected him. But if she didn’t, and Sokka was dead, then so was she. Another friend gone. Another person who’d left him behind.

He took deep breaths, fast breaths, hyperventilating breaths. Power in fire bending came from the breath, and Zuko had never felt more powerless. 

He didn’t know how long he kneeled there, crying before an empty pond, before he heard a voice.

“Nephew.”

Zuko didn’t look up at the sound of Uncle’s voice. He just squeezed his eyes shut. He was Firelord. He had to deal with it. He had to deal with this. He had to be strong.

“Daisuke told me what happened and I came as soon as I could. Zuko, I…I am so, so sorry.”

“Leave,” Zuko rasped. His throat was rough with smoke. 

“I will leave you alone, if that’s what you think is best.” Iroh’s footsteps padded closer and closer. “But I am here for you, Zuko, if there is anything you need.”

Iroh’s voice shook, trembled like a leaf. Zuko remembered his voice shaking like that when he came back from Ba Sing Se the first time. Zuko clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms. Of course Iroh would grieve for Sokka. It wasn’t fair of Zuko to drag him away from his grief. He had to pull it together. The man he’d loved for years was dead and he had to pull it together.

“Uncle,” he managed to wheeze out. “Uncle, I can’t—he’s not—” his voice trailed off into sobs. 

He was 13 again, burned and hurting. He was 16 again, with a stomach full of anger and a mind that could not weather instability. It had been seven years since his father had been jailed, and it was as if he’d never left, as if Ozai still ruled and Zuko was just a broken prince who cried and screamed and broke things. 

Iroh’s hand was on his back, rubbing in a smooth and soothing motion. 

“I do not know how to help you, nephew,” Iroh said, “except to suggest that you go to sleep.”

“This won’t be better in the morning,” Zuko mumbled. 

“The circumstances will not be different when the sun rises,” Iroh replied, “but perhaps the next sunrise will give you a little more strength to face them.”

“How can you be so calm?!” Zuko yelled. “How can you—when he’s…Iroh, he’s not…”

Iroh embraced Zuko, brought him into his arms like a child. 

“The loss of love is one of life’s greatest tragedies,” Iroh said softly. “Come, nephew. I will take you to bed, and get you some nice tea.”

“Sun’s still up,” Zuko mumbled, but allowed himself to be led by Iroh. He kept his head down, followed Iroh’s hand on his arm. His feet dragged and he couldn’t stop crying. He was an eggshell smashed on the ground.

“I will send out hawks for your friends,” Iroh said as he opened the door to Zuko’s bedroom. “You will not have to grieve alone.”

“Can you check on Li Chen?” Zuko whispered. “I...I hurt him. Please give him my apologies.”

“Of course.”

Zuko slid, trembling, into bed. Sokka was gone. He was _gone._ He couldn’t believe it. At any moment, Sokka would walk through that door and slide into the side of the bed he sometimes occupied when Zuko had nightmares. His fingers clutched at the cold sheets. 

Zuko stood up, went to the closet, took out a fur-lined cape. It was never cool enough to wear, but Sokka insisted on keeping anyway and just left in Zuko’s closet. He’d said that Zuko’s closet was his extra storage, and Sokka certainly went shopping enough to need it. Zuko never minded. How could he mind? He bundled the cape into his arms and got back under the covers. He held the cape close and pretended the fur was over Sokka’s shoulders, pretended it was warm like him. He buried his face in it. It still smelled like saltwater and lavender. It still felt as soft as Sokka’s smile. 

He was coming back. He had to come back. Sokka had to come back, because without him Zuko was doomed. How could he rule without Sokka? It would be like ruling without fire bending. He still had so much left to say. His mouth tasted like ash. 

There was a mirror on the door of the closet, and Zuko stared at it. His sideways face looked like the face of a corpse or a madman. He saw his father in the lines of his cheekbones.

He curled himself around the cape and buried his fingers into the lining. 

Sokka didn’t know. He thought he was just a good friend, a good ambassador, a good betrothed uniting their nations. He didn’t know how his presence lit up Zuko’s heart with rainbow dragon-fire. And now he’d never know. 

Zuko stood, shoving those thoughts to the side. He couldn’t shut down. He didn’t have time to wallow. He had to do something. Sokka was still alive. He had to be. 

He stormed out of his room, cape around his shoulders. Suki was in the southwest of the Earth Kingdom, so she could meet them in Sanjiazi. General Hina would be in the war room, he knew. He trusted her. She would go with him, along with a small team.

He threw the doors to the war room open. Hina and Iroh were alone there, looking over a map. He had more generals, but they were offering military guidance to other nations. It was peacetime, after all. Everything was peaches and roses. 

“Zuko,” Iroh greeted. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Let me talk to Hina alone.”

Iroh inclined his head to him and left. 

Hina stood and bowed. “Firelord Zuko. I heard what happened.” 

There was no pity in her eyes, which Zuko was grateful for. He didn’t need a friend. He needed a general who respected him as Firelord.

“Then you know why I’m here.” Zuko took the seat that Iroh had abandoned. “Get the 43rd squadron together. We’re going to Sanjiazi.”

“It’s most likely a trap.”

“I’m aware of that. But as long as there’s a chance Sokka is still alive, I’m not giving up on him.” 

“I cannot in good conscience allow my Firelord to walk into a trap.”

“I’m not asking, General.” A lick of fire came out with Zuko’s raspy words. 

Hina dipped her head. “Very well. When are we leaving?”

“As soon as we can get our ship together. Hopefully before sunset. And make sure you get some of our best burners on that ship. I want to be in the Earth Kingdom in three days’ time.” He inclined his head to her. “Get started. I’m going to send a messenger hawk to Suki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's art is from zukkanthis! Find it here: https://zukkanthis.tumblr.com/post/623946424099504128/inspired-by-theandromedarecord-spymaster-sokka
> 
> Next chapter: meet the rebels!


	3. Making Friends And Influencing People EXTREME VERSION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zhuji begin their game of 4-dimensional pai sho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I next update, I'll be a college student!!! Isn't that just buckwild??? Hopefully I'll still have the time for this—I have three chapters written in advance, which should be enough. Also, fair warning: if you're looking for a fic that's just focused on Zuko and Sokka and is pretty short and stays on track and focused on its main premise, go read Those Who Favor Fire. My niche is longfics that get way more gen than usual and focus a lot on plot. If that's you're thing, you're in for a treat!

Sokka felt pretty good for a man who’d been dead for a week.

They’d made it out of the Sanjiazi Forest and through most of Lang Zhi She province, and now camped in a little gully outside of Tuvas. Trees bent overhead, hiding them tidily from anyone looking in from above. The downside of the trees was that they blocked out the moon, which made Sokka a little uneasy. He felt far safer with Yue watching over him.

Before he entered the gully and vanished from the uncloaked gaze of the moon, he took a moment to look up at her.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

Without Yue’s help, who knows if he’d have made it out of Sanjiazi. Well, she wasn’t the only one who’d helped him, but she was the only one of his allies he could actually see. He sent a quiet prayer to the spirits. After this was over, he was never acting dismissive towards the spirits again.

He watched the camp as he sat on a tree stump, sharpening his katana. The camp was significantly smaller than the group in the treetops. As they’d traveled, operatives had split off in pairs to disperse into the surrounding villages. Apparently, the group they’d started with wasn’t even the whole Orchid. It was just the group led by Zhuji. That was extremely worrying. He needed to find out what their full strength was, but he had no idea how he was supposed to do that. 

The Orchid couldn’t even be counted, not in the way one would count a typical army. They had their full-time operatives that were nothing but ghosts in the wind, but they also had plenty of sympathizers. Some gave support to the Orchid. Some just thought the group had the right idea. Some of their allies didn’t even know about the Orchid, and just attended meetings to debate the new leadership of the Fire Nation. Barely any of them that weren’t in the Orchid had any actual sense as to what the Orchid really was.

Ozai would have burned any sympathizers to the ground. Zuko tried his best to appease the people and make the Fire Nation into something that could be loved and trusted. He’d done so well, and yet never felt like he’d done enough.

Zuko never gave up on something he knew needed to be done. Sokka loved that about him. He did find himself wishing Zuko had done a bit more burning to the ground, though.

The sun had just set, yet no one seemed ready to go to sleep. Everyone stayed awake past sunset here, apparently. There were no firebenders. Of course there were no firebenders. All the firebenders would either be on Zuko’s side or Ozai’s. The Fire Nation at large were still blind to the harm the war had left in his wake.

“You look ready for a fight.”

Sokka turned to see Zhuji standing behind him, arms crossed, a twisted smirk on her face that might have been a smile if not for the burn scar over her lower lip. She looked tired. She’d looked tired since the day Sokka had met her.

“No one’ll find us here, and we’ve got people on watch,” she said. “You can take off that armor and relax.”

Sokka drew the whetstone across the blade’s edge. “I’m either ready for a fight, or I’m asleep.” Another draw of the stone. “No in between.” Another draw of the stone. “I’ll relax when the tyranny of the Fire Nation is gone forever.”

Zhuji shrugged and sat down next to him. “Suit yourself. But the Fire Nation won’t find us here.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Sokka said. “Now that we’re out of reach of the Fire Nation for the time being, what’s the plan? Like, what are we doing? You know I’m new here.”

“The plan overall is to kill the Firelord, get any heirs out of the way, seize the throne, and destabilize the Fire Nation from the inside out.”

Sokka blinked. He wasn’t expecting her to just come out and tell him. If that was her plan, no doubt there were those within the ranks who just had their eye on power. He could use that to his advantage. And they weren’t just targeting Zuko. Who was in line for the throne? Iroh would be a target. Sokka himself would have probably been the heir, as that was Zuko’s obvious intent—ah, that explained why they stuck their necks out to kill him, rather than any of Zuko’s other allies. The Orchid must have a plan for Katara, Aang, and Toph, who would no doubt step in if everyone else was gone.

And then there was Azula.

If the Orchid could track down Azula, let alone take her out, Sokka would be extremely surprised. But he had no doubt she’d come out of the woodwork if the throne was empty. They had to deal with her. Him and the Orchid could agree on that much. They’d probably disagree on how to deal with her, though. The Orchid likely wanted Azula dead.

“Right now, though, we’re heading for the Beixin river,” Zhuji continued. From there, we’re going to the South Pole. That’ll be where they’re having the funeral.”

Ah. So that was where their real assassination attempt was taking place. Sokka had wondered how soon they were going to make their move, given how readily they’d agreed to his suggestion about the Sanjiazi diversion. None of the assassins they’d sent to Sanjiazi had been heard from since, which was exactly what Sokka had hoped.

“There will be plenty of guests there,” Zhuji continued. “Our team will blend right in.”

“It’ll be weird,” Sokka remarked, “attending a funeral for a man I killed. But, ah, what’s the plan, exactly? The Avatar will be there, you know, not to mention a bunch of powerful benders.”

“We’re splitting up at the Beixin river, at the Steamboat Dock,” Zhuji told him. “I’ll be leading one group to the South Pole. You’ll be coming with.”

“And the other group?”

“You’re new, so let me tell you something about the Orchid: any and all information is on a need-to-know basis. All you need to know right now is that you’re coming with me to the South Pole.”

Great. At least Sokka would be where his friends were. Whatever the Orchid had planned, he’d make sure they didn’t get hurt. He probably just needed to tip them off—they were more than capable of defending themselves, so whatever the Orchid was cooking up, it probably relied on the element of surprise.

His katana was almost sharpened. He missed his space sword. The Orchid had left it lying on the corpse, to return to the palace with Zuko. It was for the best, he supposed. He’d left Zuko the sword in his will anyway.

Sokka hadn’t been to the South Pole in months, and it changed every time he saw it. The Southern Water Tribe was thriving under Hakoda’s leadership in the absence of war and the presence of Zuko’s readily-given aid. And now it was to weather its first attack in seven years. Was it ready? It had to be. Sokka trusted his dad.

“If the plan was to get them all in one place for a funeral,” Sokka said, “why go after Ambassador Sokka? Surely there are other targets.”

“Because,” Zhuji replied, “we knew that losing the Ambassador would tip the Firelord over the edge.”

“You know the marriage was purely political, right?”

Sokka felt a bit of a sour taste in his mouth as he said those words. It wasn’t purely political, not for him. But no one except Sokka and the turtleducks he sometimes vented to needed to know that.

Zhuji scoffed. “We have sources extremely close to the Firelord, Katsuki. We knew that he was head over heels for the Ambassador. The loss of love makes people do stupid things.”

Wait. What?

Sokka kept his face carefully composed. Zhuji didn’t know what she was talking about. Surely Zuko didn’t care that much. They were best friends, and Sokka’s absence would hurt, but he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Guilt stabbed Sokka in the chest again. He pushed it aside. He knew it would multiply a hundredfold if he left now and the Orchid hurt someone else. And if they had someone close enough to keep a tab on Zuko’s emotional state, they’d definitely find out if Zuko knew he was alive.

As the stars began peeking through the gaps in the foliage, the Orchid finally started to retreat into their tents. Sokka sheathed his katana. He made a mental note to find some Orchid members to spar with him. He wasn’t as experienced with this weapon as he’d no doubt need to be.

They were going to the Beixin river. Zhuji had actually told him that. He was a new member of a secret organization, and she was telling him their destination already. She thought he needed to know that, even though he wasn’t any sort of navigator.

If Sokka were an optimist, he’d assume that killing Sokka was enough to get his Kyoshi Warrior alter ego into the inner circle. But Sokka was not an optimist.

If he sent a messenger hawk now, or even an Earth Kingdom letter rider, it could reach the nearest Earth Kingdom military outpost by morning. The army could meet the Orchid at the river, dealing them a serious blow. It wouldn’t take out the whole organization, but it would be more progress than they’d made in the last seven years. No doubt Zhuji knew that, so she’d have to trust completely anyone she revealed her plans too. She hadn’t even been there to see Katsuki kill Sokka, of course.

“Have a good night, Katsuki,” Zhuji told him.

She gave him a pat on the back before walking away to enter a tent that was not her own. It belonged one of the group cartographers, a man named Adlartok. Sokka hadn’t talked to him yet, but he knew that Adlartok always had his nose in a map. He also knew that some of the Orchid members looked at Adlartok with suspicion. He was apparently from the Northern Water Tribe, which linked him to Sokka, which Sokka supposed could cause suspicion.

Sokka looked around furtively before strolling by Adlartok’s tent. As he walked by, he leaned in close to the fabric. He didn’t hear the whole conversation, but he picked up one vital fragment from Zhuji:

“We’ll take the Qiyi river.”

The Beixin and Qiyi rivers both ran south, where they merged into the Beixinqiyi river—never let it be said the Earth Kingdom was bad at names—that eventually spilled into the ocean north of the Southern Water Tribe. If they were splitting up, and only one group was going to the funeral, it made no sense for one group to take the Beixin river and the other to take the Qiyi. Unless they were splitting up for safety reasons, so that if one group was caught the plan wouldn’t be ruined, but Zhuji hadn’t said anything about that.

So which one were they taking?

Zhuji didn’t fully trust “Katsuki.” Zhuji probably didn’t fully trust Adlartok either. Maybe they weren’t taking either river.

Sokka entered his own tent and started the meditative process of unbuckling his armor for the night. If it were him, what would he do?

If he were leading a rebel group and had suspicions of treachery, he’d purposely leak information for the traitor to act on. He’d done so two years ago and successfully weeded out three New Ozai Society members from the palace guard.

He heard rustling outside his tent. He peered out and saw two figures on ostrich horses climbing the wall of the gully and disappearing from sight.

Maybe they were just looking for food. Or maybe one was going to the Beixin river and one to the Qiyi river, to see which one troops showed up to. That’s what Sokka would do. He couldn’t be sure that’s what Zhuji was doing, and there was no way for him to find out. But he couldn’t risk trying to get word to the Earth Kingdom army about the Orchid’s movements. If they found out any of their plans got out, they’d just change them.

Unless they were plans that they were never going to follow through with in the first place. Sokka got an idea. After all, the only way to confirm an idea was to test it. The scientific method.

Sokka started wiping away his makeup. Even if someone walked in on him bare-faced, he knew from experience just how infallible a disguise expectations were. No one was looking for Sokka, and no one knew Sokka by face, so no one would see Sokka, at least not in the dark. He only had about a week’s worth of makeup left. Hopefully he could restock—the Orchid definitely didn’t have enough supplies to make it to the South Pole without restocking, so they’d probably pop into a town along the way. Maybe Sokka could get a message home there and tell his friends he was alive.

Or maybe not. He was in a position to gather more intel on the Orchid than anyone had in seven years. Telling anyone he was alive would jeopardize that. Not only were the Orchid known to intercept messages, they likely had spies in the Caldera and Republic City. Sokka loved his friends, but they were horrible at keeping secrets. If the Orchid found out Sokka was alive, “Katsuki” was a dead woman. There was a reason he’d made sure the only person who knew he was alive wasn’t going back to the capital.

Then again, his messages didn’t have to come with a signature.

He could always just leave, intelligence be damned. The weakest part of him wanted to do that. But they were going to kill Zuko. He couldn’t let that happen. He loved them too much to return to them. His friends and family would just have to weather his supposed loss. They could do it. They had each other, and they were the strongest people Sokka knew.

Tui and La, he missed Zuko already. He wished he’d had a chance to just have one conversation with him before all of this, just enough to tell Zuko how he really felt, how the marriage had never been just politics to him.

He’d tell Zuko. He’d come back. Not hell or high water, death or fire, could keep him from returning to Zuko and his family.

He wished he could have kept the betrothal necklace, though. His neck felt bare without it. At least his sword was safe with Zuko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's art: https://theandromedarecord.tumblr.com/post/625311727427452928/for-the-spymaster-au-sokka-cozying-up-to-zhuji  
> Next chapter is an absolute freaking banger, y'all. You get to see what happens when Zuko is confronted with the corpse of his bro/fiance  
> Comments are always appreciated, and feel free to ask questions!


	4. Yue Fucks Shit Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Suki arrive in Sanjiazi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! So, I'll try to keep to my current weekly upload schedule, but I just started college and I'll probably be waaaay busy. I've gotten so much kind feedback, thank you all!

Dark clouds did not gather on the horizon as the 43 rd squadron approached Sanjiazi, but Zuko felt an electric thrum through his bones and knew a storm was near. They crested a hill, and Zuko at last laid his eyes on that cursed place. A chill ran through his spine as he surveyed the faraway structures. Sanjiazi lay at the edge of the desert, but belonged only to the sand, as if it was a hand the desert were reaching out to grab the thorntrees by the throat. It looked like the village they’d cornered Azula in a lifetime ago, but with more intact roofs. It wasn’t a place that the living could call home.

It started to rain as their mounts reached the village. Storms like this were one in a million in the desert, and the sparse plants taking root in the sand seemed to stretch desperately towards the sky. Zuko barely felt the heavy droplets. He couldn’t distinguish the booming thunder from his own heartbeat. He scanned what parts of Sanjiazi he could see for movement, but saw nothing.

Rain was often compared to tears, but as Zuko looked at the waxing moon still lingering in the daylight sky, he wondered if it wasn’t a metaphor this time around. 

“I’m sorry, Yue,” he whispered to the heavens, knowing as he said it his apology could never be enough.

He wished he could have gotten to know her. He wished she would have lived. He could have used the counsel of a princess who was always willing to do what she had to for the people she loved. For her duty. For her honor. 

He probably could have saved her, if he’d gone after Zhao instead of Aang. 

General Hina insisted on having their troops sweep the town before Zuko entered, even though Suki and her Warriors had already done so. Hina’s military background in Ba Sing Se had left her with a healthy heaping of caution that balanced out Zuko’s fire, and he trusted her. Still, it took everything Zuko had to stay back and let her go first. 

Finally, Suki and Hina returned from the town. Hina’s mouth was set in a grave and stony line, and Suki was so pale her neck looked the same color as her white-painted face. 

“Come with me,” Suki told him, her voice hushed. The makeup around her eyes was smudged.

Maybe she was crying for some other reason. Or maybe she wasn’t crying—the rain was starting to wear away at her foundation. Sokka wasn’t dead. His body wasn’t really in the village. It couldn’t be. Suki took his hand as she led him. Her fingers squeezed tightly around his palm, as if holding on to a life preserver. 

She led him to the very center of town, where a corpse lay on bloodstained dust. The rain was slowly leaching the blood from the soil, leaving behind only a body. Ice clung to the body in jagged crystals, going so far as to completely encase the hands,

“Who’s that?” Zuko whispered.

“You know who it is,” Suki said in a wobbly voice.

His hand slid out of hers, and he walked to the body as if in a trance. Though the ice was recently melted, the flesh was already starting to rot. It was bloated, discolored, buzzing with flies. Bloodied foam leaked from a mouth he’d longed to kiss for seven years. Eyes that Zuko had always gotten lost in were vacant and unseeing. It was a face he’d know anywhere, a face imprinted on the back of his retinas. There was no more denying it.

Sokka was dead. 

Zuko collapsed to his knees and slammed his fists weakly into the dirt stained by Sokka’s blood. Mud coated his arms within seconds, but he didn’t care. He was breathing too fast. His breaths were weak, unanchored, not powering his fire but made of it, burning at his throat and his ash-stained tongue, taking the oxygen from Zuko’s lungs.

Suki knelt by Zuko’s side. 

“He’s gone,” she said dully, so quiet that Zuko could barely hear her over the thunder—or was that his heartbeat? “I…I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Suki took Zuko’s hand and held it tight. Lightning struck one of the roofs, and Zuko felt the electricity through the ground. The old wound in his stomach ached. 

At least Sokka’s corpse was the only one lying there. Zuko couldn’t handle the loss of two people he loved on the same day.

“Let’s bring him home,” she said.

Home. Sokka would never come home again. They would give him a ceremony, they would have a funeral, his body would return to the Water Tribe and be given back to the water, but Sokka would never come home again. Zuko felt an inferno building in his stomach, behind the scar tissue below his ribcage. 

“Who did this?” he whispered. 

“We don’t know,” Suki replied, “and I have no idea how to find out.”

Sokka would figure it out. Sokka always noticed some detail that everyone else had missed, made connections that no one else saw. If he could be here, gazing down at his own corpse, he’d come up with some staggering insight that would lead to the killer.

What would Sokka do?

Zuko tried to conjure up the sound of his voice, but trying to recall Sokka speaking was like getting stabbed in the gut. Sokka would never speak again. His voice box was severed and covered in blood. His shirt was torn and open, revealing a deep gash scoring his chest, piercing his chest cavity, and Zuko could only think that even if he were alive he wouldn’t be able to draw breath to speak. 

“He’s been here for about a week,” Suki said, “which means the village was abandoned before then.”

“It was probably never occupied,” Zuko replied. “Probably just full of that damn Orchid.” He touched the ground, looked back to the south toward the forest. There was a trail in the dirt, quickly fading beneath the barrage of raindrops. He’d been killed in the forest and dragged here.

“He doesn’t look a week old,” he said.

Suki pointed to his arms, tracing something Zuko couldn’t see. “I’m accounting for the ice. The Orchid must have done that before they left, to preserve the body. And look.” Suki pointed to the wound on Sokka’s chest, a wound that was starting to fill with water.

Zuko looked away. He didn’t need the reminder. He couldn’t look.

“This wound bled a lot. I think this is what killed him.”

Zuko frowned. “What about the throat? Suki, his head—it’s almost—it’s almost—”

He closed his eyes. Breathed. Bit his lip until it bled. Lightning struck again, rattling his teeth. The storm was so close.

“The fatal wound in his chest was made by a sword.”

“What kind of sword?” 

“I don’t know. I know our katanas inflict similar wounds, but so do plenty of other swords. But I know what slit his throat.”

Suki made an odd noise between a hiccup and a helpless cry. 

“It’s one of our razor-edged fans,” she whispered. “Zuko, I…I think a Kyoshi Warrior killed him.”

Zuko opened his mouth to ask another question, then snapped it shut. 

“Suki,” he said. “There’s a lot of ice here.”

Suki’s eyes widened. She sprung to her feet and drew her fans just in time to block an arrow aimed directly at Zuko’s head. 

“We’re under attack!” General Hina cried out.

They came out of nowhere, clad in black and armed to the teeth, weaving through the rain like Aang used to weave through Zuko’s fire punches. The world seemed to speed up as Zuko slowed down—it took him an eternity to so much as let go of the dust stained with Sokka’s blood. 

Lightning struck. Zuko felt the charge in the air wrap around him like a blanket.

Zuko could barely make out anything through the rain, but as one of his soldiers firebent, the light glinted off metal. He jumped to his feet just as a masked figure felled one of the soldiers guarding him. Zuko’s eyes narrowed as the masked figure approached. So this was a member of the Orchid. There was nothing in their costume to betray their affiliation, but Zuko knew. Lightning struck again, sending a jolt through Zuko’s feet and a buzz down his chi paths, but Zuko didn’t hear the following thunderclap over the roar of blood pounding in his ears. 

The figure brandished a sword. Maybe this was who had killed Sokka. Maybe it wasn’t. They were dead either way. 

“Let me handle him,” Zuko hissed. Suki nodded, brandished her fans, and ran off. 

Zuko let the inferno loose with a roar and drew his dao. The fire burned so hot it turned the raindrops around it to sizzling steam. The Orchid member screamed, their clothes set alight. Zuko didn’t give them time to finish their scream before burying his swords deep in their heart. Hot blood spattered his face. Zuko yanked his swords out and turned, looking desperately for his next target. Fire sputtered from his mouth with each panting breath and his blades were starving for blood. Black-clad figures flitted between the soldiers, ghosts in the rain, getting a few hits in before retreating into the shells of houses, getting closer and closer to Zuko. There couldn’t be more than ten.

If they wanted a fight with the Firelord, they would get it.

“We need to retreat!” Suki yelled as she handily dispatched a woman who wielded a hammer.

“No!” Zuko yelled back. “I’m not leaving till they’re all dead!”

His heart pounded faster and faster. His blood burned hotter and hotter. 

“You’re the Firelord!” General Hina admonished him. “We have to keep you safe! The world can’t lose two leaders!”

Zuko didn’t answer her. His eyes landed on an archer firing from behind a chimney. He rushed at the house, leaping on some rickety barrels and swinging himself up onto the roof. The archer turned and his eyes widened. He drew back his arrow, fired, missed as Zuko rushed at him, swinging his swords through waves of flame that hissed and writhed with steam. A blast of fire burned the archer’s hands, and he was dead by Zuko’s blades before the bow hit the shingles. 

Zuko took just a moment to take a breath before looking for his next target like a wild animal on the hunt. He saw Private Eiji on the defensive against one of the attackers, barely making it through each swing alive. Private Eiji was a nice young woman, and Zuko wasn’t going to let her die. No one else was going to die. Zuko jumped down, landing with a roll before leaping to his feet with a fiery scream. The assailant turned just in time to parry Zuko’s swords. The clang of swords echoed through the battlefield. Knives flashed white in the bursts of lightning, but Zuko’s dao stayed as black as night. There were more than he’d thought—fifteen? Twenty? Thirty? He couldn’t tell if they were a legion or just very, very slippery.

It was only right for these traitors and monsters to be felled by the very blades Sokka had forged for their betrothal. Zuko’s black-steel dao were hungry, and they shook with every strike of lightning, as if the charge in the air was merely an extension of his weapons.

His opponent was a man with white hair and a scar over his nose, and he wielded two knives. Not Sokka’s killer, then, but he was still a dead man. He was skilled, obviously very experienced, and quickly had Zuko on the defensive—every time his foot landed, the Orchid man slammed a foot down and sent up a nudge of earth to break Zuko’s root. The man lunged, blades flashed, and Zuko parried, but not before a knife scraped his cheek, drawing blood that was quickly washed away by the rain. He tried to counterstrike, but his movements were slow, too forceful, too angry, and he didn’t have the willpower to calm down. The man dodged, far lighter on his feet than an earthbender had any right to be, weaving through blasts of fire like a dancer. 

Given time, Zuko could probably beat him. But Zuko wasn’t going to wait around. He could feel the charge of the air around him, and he let his chi call it near. 

He tasted ozone. He felt the air crackle. His heartbeat slowed. As the man rushed towards him, Zuko pointed one sword at him and the other into the air.

Lightning struck the metal. Zuko’s energy flowed like a raging river, his chi buzzing as it raced from one sword to the other. His breathing was calm and steady. The awesome power of the lightning would not consume him today.

The man screamed his last as electricity ripped through him. The all-too-familiar acrid smell of charred flesh lingered in the air for but a moment before the petrichor drowned it out. 

Zuko had never used lightning to kill anyone. He didn’t care. 

He wasn’t a lightningbender, but as the static crackled around him and leaped through the raindrops, lightning striking far more frequently than it should and far closer to him than was probable, he knew he didn’t have to be. 

This storm was not Yue’s grief. It was her vengeance, and he would join her in it.

Zuko ceased to be a man, ceased to be Firelord. He was just fire and blade and flashing lightning, whirling through the rain with a mind dead set on vengeance and a sword pointed at the sky. At his side his soldiers, at his back Suki and her fans. His fire came out in uncontrollable spurts and bursts, fueled by a long-dormant anger. There was no dragon fire, just raw red rage. The raindrops sizzled into flashes of steam the moment they touched him. Sparks flew from his gnashing teeth.

In the end, ten of Zuko’s soldiers were dead, their blood and unseeing eyes a testament to Zuko’s broken promises. Fifteen black-clad Orchid rebels joined them in the dust. Water and dirt and blood ran through the streets.

One Orchid rebel remained. She had a black eye and bound hands. Suki dragged her before Zuko. The woman glowered up at him, with eyes full of hatred that Zuko could only imagine was mirrored in his own face. 

“So I am to be burned alive by the Firelord himself,” she snarled. “What an honor.”

Zuko very nearly obliged her, but he needed information. Without information, they were powerless against the Orchid. Seven years had proved that much.

“Why did you do it?” Zuko demanded. “Why did you kill him?”

“What, are you hoping I’m going to monologue? Reveal our motivations?”

“I’m not asking nicely,” Zuko hissed. Fire came to life in his palm, white-hot and seething in the rain. “I’m thinking I’ll start by making our faces match.”

“How very Ozai of you,” she replied.

Suki drove a knee into the woman’s back, knocking her into the mud. “Zuko is not his father,” she snapped. 

“Don’t act like you’re better than me,” Zuko told her. “You’re nothing more than thieves and murderers. You act like you seek justice, but you really just want power. You murdered Sokka and then robbed him of everything he had.”

“We left you his necklace and sword,” the woman insisted. “That’s more than you deserve.”

Zuko frowned. “His sword was gone.”

The woman’s face bore genuine-looking confusion. 

“I suppose we aren’t your only enemies, then,” she replied.

She had to be lying. Sanjiazi had been abandoned since ten years before the end of the war, and it wasn’t on any travel routes. The village was decidedly off the beaten path. Why would anyone else pass through here and steal his sword?

“Where is Ty Lee?” Zuko demanded through gritted teeth. “Sokka’s guard. Where is she?”

The woman smirked. “Seeking alternate employment.”

The rain finally pierced Zuko’s bones with an ice-cold chill.

“You’re lying.”

The woman shrugged. “She’s not with us. We don’t care where she went. But she certainly helped us out, leaving your precious little Water Tribe pet behind.”

Zuko slapped her with his non-flaming hand. She just laughed.

“Liar! Ty Lee is my friend!”

“You’re running short on those these days, aren’t you?”

Zuko decided to slap her with his other hand, but Suki caught his arm.

“She’s trying to get to you,” she hissed into his ear. “Don’t let him win.”

Zuko lowered his hand. His fingers still smoked.

“Let’s take her back to the train,” Zuko said. “Once we have her in custody, we can start a proper interrogation.” He met the woman’s blue eyes. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to say a word to give us everything we want.”

The woman’s eyes widened in recognition. So she knew what he meant. 

“I forgot about the Blind Bandit,” she grumbled. “Well, Firelord, it’s been fun. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go meet your betrothed.”

Before Zuko could react, she twisted her arms and chest in a motion that Zuko recognized as waterbending. He cried out and readied a defensive stance, but no water weapons manifested. He frowned, confused—and then the woman began to choke, eyes bulging, throat spasming. Suki sprung into action and started doing chest compressions, but all that happened was that bloodstained water spurted from the dying woman’s mouth. There was nothing they could do.

“She filled her own lungs with water,” Suki breathed. “That’s…”

“That was our one lead,” Hina muttered. “Back to square one.”

“We’re going to find where they came from,” Zuko panted hoarsely, “and we’re going to wipe them out.”

Suki nodded and turned to convey his words to the reassembling platoon. 

“Spread out,” she ordered. “Find out where they came from and where they were hiding. They have to have allies or some sort of base of operations somewhere.”

The soldiers nodded and did so, except for the ship’s doctor and a selection of wounded, as well as some men assigned to carry Sokka’s body back to the ship. Zuko didn’t look at the body as they retreated. His job now was not to grieve. His job now was to burn and bleed, to bring the Orchid to the ground. 

He was restless as he paced the streets with Suki. There was no sign of anyone else. 

“My lord!” 

Zuko stalked to the house the yell came from, and found a soldier staring at an open trapdoor in the floor. It opened onto a cellar definitely large enough for the fifteen rebels. It was totally bare except for some dusty footprints. 

“So that’s where they were hiding,” Suki said. Her voice was more steady now. “Now we just need to figure out where they came from.”

“And where the rest of them went,” Zuko growled. 

“There’s a forest three miles from here,” Suki told him. “They either went there or into the desert.” She sighed. “Any tracks will have been erased by the rain.”

Sokka would know where they went. Sokka would be able to track them. Sokka would be able to predict their next move, but Zuko was just lost. The rain was soaking into his clothes, and the desert was cold. 

“They could have Ty Lee prisoner,” he said. “We have to save her.”

Hina approached cautiously. Hina never approached him cautiously. 

“Firelord Zuko,” she said. “What are your orders?”

“Find them,” he ordered. 

“They’ll be long gone by now,” she replied, “and we aren’t equipped for a long-term search.”

Zuko nearly yelled at her, but at the last moment took a deep breath instead. He couldn’t trust that his anger wouldn’t come out with fire, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Anyone else on his side, at least. The Orchid could burn screaming and he’d watch with a smile on his face. 

“Send word to the Earth King,” he said. “Smoking out the Orchid needs to become the top priority of the Earth Kingdom army. Make sure our troops in the colonies get that message too. Suki, I want Kyoshi Warriors and your allies searching the province, and I want intel. Investigate the bodies here. See what you can find.” His fists clenched and his gloves started to singe. “I want to know who did this.”

“We should return to the Fire Nation,” Suki said, a hand on his arm. Zuko looked down at her. Her voice was focused, but her eyes were staring into the middle distance. All that remained of her makeup was smudges of white. “We need to plan our next moves.” She swallowed. “And…and plan his funeral.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's art: https://theandromedarecord.tumblr.com/post/625294137171869696


	5. The Penny Drops (that ass down low and picks that motherfucker up—)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is 3 hours late, I was busy jamming with the boys. Anyway, I have one more chapter written and then I might have to go on hiatus—I'm still adjusting to college!

Sure enough, Zhuji diverted their path for neither the Beixin or the Qiyi river. No one knew where they were going but her—with the debatable exceptions of Sokka and Adlartoq, who thought they knew. Sokka watched the confusion on Adlartoq’s face as they continued taking the land route. He was about to get way more confused.

There was no way they were walking to the southern coast of the Earth Kingdom, so Sokka guessed they were going to the junction of the two rivers. The Beixinqiyi was wide and easy, the perfect river to travel.

After passing through a little village where Sokka stocked up on supplies and sent out a message, the Orchid camped out in a small clearing with a creek running through it. Sokka sighed as he surveyed the rough dirt. He used to be totally fine with roughing it, but he’d gotten way too used to his silken sheets and cushy mattress back in the Fire Nation.

He missed the palace like he’d miss a lost hand. In only seven years, he’d come to see it as a second home. It wouldn’t be home without Zuko, though. Nowhere was home without him.

They still had at least an hour of daylight, but the ostrich horses that carried their provisions were tired and couldn’t take the new supplies without a break. So that left Sokka with some time to find a sparring partner.

Everyone looked restless. Perfect. Surely someone here was itching for a low-stakes fight. Sokka had made small talk with several of the members, and was well on his way to making some acquaintances. He couldn’t help making friends wherever he went, even among enemies. He had ended up engaged to the Firelord, after all.

He zeroed in on Lam, a woman who’d ridden alongside him and commented on the journey she was skilled with the wakizashi she always wore at her hip. She looked bored, and didn’t seem particularly invested in the small book she was reading. Excellent.

“Hey, Lam,” he called, striding up to her.

She looked up. Her hair looked far older than her face, and her hands looked older still.

“I’m looking for someone to spar with,” he said. He patted the hilt of his sword. “This thing’s new and I gotta break it in. Wanna go a few rounds?”

“I thought all Kyoshi Warriors started with a katana,” she said, standing up.

“Not me. I was just a kid when I started, so I just had a tanto for a while, and I guess I just got comfortable. I had another katana for a bit, but it snapped in half when I was fighting a waterbender and Fire Nation soldier at the same time.” Sokka shook his head. “Word of advice: blades don’t take well to getting frozen and then blasted with fire.”

Sokka found ridiculous lies very fun. He could see why Toph liked them so much.

Lam took out her sword and whirled it around a bit. “You still got the tanto?”

“Nah. I got into a fight with Toph Beifong’s students. The tanto’s a teapot now.”

That one wasn’t a lie. It made some very good tea. Suki was very mad at him after that.

“That’s rough.” Lam shrugged. “Sure, let’s clash some blades. Always wanted to beat a Kyoshi Warrior.”

“Oh, it’s on!”

They found a open space in the dirt and crossed their swords. Lam’s blade was shorter and she herself was a full head shorter than Sokka, so she’d probably be trying to get in closer. He’d have to keep her at a distance.

“Here at the Orchid,” Lam said, “we spar to first blood.”

Sokka grinned while he grimaced internally. He wasn’t used to sparring to first blood—having Zuko as a training partner had made him a little soft. Zuko was positively neurotic about making sure no one got hurt in training. He’d nearly started crying after accidentally giving Aang a small burn during fire bending practice once.

“No problem,” he replied. “We’ll count anything that would draw blood on me if not for the armor.”

“All right. One. Two—”

Before she could say “three,” two figures came crashing through the underbrush on ostrich horses. They were the two men that Sokka had clocked as missing after he’d seen them sneak out near Tuvas. So they were back from the rivers. Or back from a really long trip to find food—Sokka’s river theory wouldn’t be confirmed unless the grass got watered with blood. The whole camp turned towards them, always vigilant, but they both just grabbed Zhuji and slipped into her tent.

None of the assassins sent to Sanjiazi to kill Zuko had returned, of course. Even if they lived, they wouldn’t have time to catch up with them. Sokka knew they wouldn’t be coming back, and he had a feeling Zhuji knew as well. They’d receive news of their deaths soon.

“Anyway. Three.”

Lam immediately sprung towards him, going for a disarming strike that Sokka parried a bit less easily than he would have liked. The katana had far less weight than he was used to, so he was quicker, but there was less force behind his swings. He’d fought with it before, of course, but he was out of practice. He wished for the thousandth time he’d gotten in more training sessions with Suki. He was going to need every ounce of his skill to see this through.

Lam proved a more than capable sparring partner. She was quick, aggressive, and quickly tired him out. But she didn’t stop and assess the situation. She didn’t do anything clever or wait for the right time to strike. Which might not be too much of a liability, if not for the fact that Sokka had learned some tricks from Toph Beifong. She pu up a good fight before he figured out her style, of course. He let her think he was standing still, waited for her to launch forward, then easily disarmed her with a quick circular move he’d picked up from Suki.

Her sword fell to the ground, and Sokka lunged forward with a quick strike. She smirked, slammed a foot down, and a rough, uncontrolled pillar of rock launched from the ground between them, knocking Sokka flat on his ass and sending Lam stumbling backward a few steps. He jumped to his feet, but in those precious seconds she picked up her sword and swung it at him. He brought up his own blade to deflect it, and the point of her wakizashi slid down the edge and scraped across his armor.

“I win,” Lam said smugly.

“No fair!” Sokka complained. “I didn’t know you were a bender!”

“Part of being in the Orchid is getting comfortable with surprises. Get used to it, newbie.”

He was pretty good at dealing with surprises, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with them. Sokka dusted his armor off.So there was some data for the ol’ mental notebook. That sparring session had sure been productive.

The two messengers and Zhuji emerged from the tent. Sokka watched as they approached Adlartoq, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground and looking at one of his maps. Sokka tightened his hands around the grip of the katana.

“Traitor!” Zhuji announced, swinging her sai and getting ready to stab like an executioner.

The entire camp was on high alert now, like tiger-wolves that had caught a scent. Adlartoq’s head snapped up. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion.

“I—I didn’t do anything!” he protested.

“You were the only one told we were going to the Qiyi river,” Zhuji announced. By now, people had started to emerge from tents. “And Earth Kingdom troops showed up at the banks looking for us.”

By now, Sokka had picked up on the Orchid’s policy towards spies. There would be no trial, no argument. They’d rather kill an innocent ally than suffer a spider-rat to live. So Sokka wasn’t surprised when Adlartoq threw up a geyser of water from the creek and bolted for the edge of the clearing, towards Lam and Sokka.

“Kill the traitor!” Zhuji cried.

Sokka rushed at him. Adlartoq dodged to the side and tried to keep running, but a boulder popped out of the ground beneath his feet, throwing him off balance. All Sokka needed was that moment to run his sword through Adlartoq’s chest.

There was no other way. Adlartoq had to die. He’d try to make his way through this thing without killing, but Sokka was nothing if not a realist, and he knew his hands would end up dripping red.

“Nice,” Lam commented, casually walking up to him. She looked exhausted, and she was rotating her shoulder cautiously as if she’d strained it. “Maybe you’re not so bad with that thing after all.”

Sokka offered her a fist, and she bumped it. “Guess we’re a good team.”

Zhuji and the two messengers ran up to them. Zhuji poked at Adlartoq with her sai as he let out his final death rattle.

“I had a feeling there was a traitor in our midst,” Zhuji said smugly. “Now we can really get to work.”

“What should we do with the body?” Sokka asked.

“I can bury it so no one can find it,” Lam suggested. “I…I’ve been learning how to do holes. Holes are surprisingly difficult, ‘specially if you want them hidden.”

Lam looked at least 30, maybe older, yet her earth bending was that of a beginner. A late bloomer, perhaps?

“Let’s not be so hasty to get rid of it,” Sokka said. “You can do tons of creative things with a corpse. Especially the corpse of an ashmaker spy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no art this week i've just been drawing fullmetal alchemist shitposts. go watch fullmetal alchemist

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Sokka Spymaster au on tumblr pioneered by [zukkababey](zukkababey.tumblr.com) and [sword-over-water.](sword-over-water.tumblr.com)
> 
> Find the other fic based on this concept [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25415320/chapters/61636432)
> 
> Check the Sokka Spymaster AU tag on tumblr for more content!
> 
> This fic has a playlist! It's a collaborative one, so you can add songs that remind you of this fic to it. Find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2khFoZtBLcu0vzuIzEx7DK?si=KT-PdtYkQQSCGEXuTLijkA)
> 
> Twitter: [artfromandy](https://twitter.com/artfromandy)  
> Tumblr: [theandromedarecord](theandromedarecord.tumblr.com)  
> Instagram: theandromedarecord
> 
> Thanks to mahtinnn and brain-patterns on tumblr for beta-ing this! They're really helping elevate this fic


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